The Death Of Kenny
by BugleLoveSong
Summary: The world ended at 2:43 on the 19th of May 2013 and now our world has become a never ending switch between squatting in houses belonging only to the dead and running for our lives. And once again Kenny is to blame...
1. Introduction

**Authors Note:** Don't worry I hate authors notes to and I promise you this will be the only one ^_^

Can't believe I'm finally posting this… I've been rewriting this same chapter over and over again for months 'cause I just can't get it right. But it's been annoying me a lot recently and I've decided to give up on it and start the actual story.

Anyways… I just want to point out that I don't have a beta at the moment and that I'm also Australian so some of the words are wrong because I suck at spelling and others might just appear wrong because I write the Australian way like Mum instead of Mom and adding an extra 'u' into colour so please feel free to point out my mistakes…

The other thing is that this story is going to involve a lot of other South Park characters. I really want feed back from everyone who actually bothers to read this about who your favourite character is so I can throw them into the mix.

I am known for being an extremely lazy person so I could be a while between updates feel free to yell at me and pressure me into writing the next chapter because I am currently not attending school and don't have a job meaning no life for me… I do have time but as I said I am an extremely lazy person. .

Anyways, I think that is about it. I really don't know where this story is going at all so it should be a fun ride for everyone involved. Love hearing from people weather it be good or bad…I'll shut up, enjoy. 3

* * *

Okay…

Jeese now that I actually have this responsibility I have no idea what to write…

Butters keeps telling me to start from the beginning but Cartman keeps saying that is boring and I should start in the middle and fill in the details as I go through but hey I managed to write that Scientology book back in 4th grade so I should be able to write this god damn story, god if only it was just a story.

Okay here it goes.

It started as just rumours, tiny little bits and pieces of information that were disorientated until they sounded more like garble then actual fact but then it actually began happening, not in South Park but in a few places surrounding us. Just a small little virus that was as harmful as a mosquitos bite and that is what people thought they were.

They were just tiny red lumps that formed on your skin but didn't do anything; they just sat there so people ignored them. The virus slowly began to mutate and the media caught on. People had blood dripping from these tiny lumps and anyone who came into contact with that blood would be infected within a day.

The reports on the news said that only a small portion of the actual population was infected and it seemed to be staying in the same place. Media attention died down and the virus mutated again, not only were the welts forming into sores that bleed no matter what you did to them the blood was also coming from other orifices, ears, noses and tear ducts. The infected would walk the street covered in blood trying to find anyone willing to help. By the time the blood began coming from the pores in peoples' skin the virus had become airborne and of corse that is when it arrived at South Park.

It probably would have stayed away if it hadn't been for one child, my life long friend, Kenny McCormick. He always had the worst luck and it was him that first contracted it. He went home that day complaining of a headache and muscle pains but I could see the blood stains soaking through his dull orange parker. Within two days his family was affected and within a fortnight half the town had it including my mother.

And then came the raids. The government came in huge trucks wearing these strange plastic blue jumpsuits. They would walk into your house, line up your family and take anyone showing any signs of contamination.

The people of South Park began to panic; most left, searching for some place that was 'safe' and this included my father. He took Shelly and ran. I stayed behind to help my best friend Kyle look after his baby brother after their parents were taken.

Together we watched the fall of society, the media continued to cover the stories for almost a year as the government fell apart and life as we knew it was ripped from under us.

Then at 2:43 pm on the 19th of May 2013 the power finally went off. I will never forget that day or that time that is frozen of every singe clock that you look at. We had been waiting for that day since it all began; it was like the day the power went off would be the day the world ended. We finally had nothing left. No more food was transported in which ment you could trust no one.

The three of us continued to live in Kyle's home for another month, surviving off the food that was left in his house and the few houses next door before Ike got sick... We thought we were actually going to make it, we did, but it hit so suddenly. One day he was sneaking though the window of the house up the street and the next he was laying his own bed covered in blood. Kyle and I promised to stay with him up until he took his last breath only he didn't. The infection got worse and worse and yet he continued to be the same Ike we had always known. It was ripping Kyle apart. When our parents were taken he was the strong one, he has always been the strong one, the three of us would sit on the lounge and Ike and I would cry into his shoulders, to scared to face what was going on outside but he would sit there with this confident look on his face and tell us that everything was going to be alright. But seeing his baby brother like that broke something inside him. He would stay strong for Ike but as soon as we left his room he would break down and become this sobbing mess. Ike lived with the infection for three weeks and two days and we watched as his body rotted away, he watched as his body rotted away, into something unrecognisable. His eyes became rotten black balls rolling around in their sockets, his hair became a tangled mess of dried blood, his tongue rotted away in his mouth causing blood to drip down his chin and infect his chest and stomach leaving gaping holes in his skin which bleed endlessly. His skin darkened under the constant cover of blood. He became a continuously rotting corps.

When we were alone I spoke to him about the things he refused to tell Kyle, he told me he wasn't actually in pain. He explained it so well but I can't remember his words, it was something along the line of when you get a pain killer needle, how you can't fell the pain but you can still feel it. He could feel his own flesh rotting away. One day, when Kyle was out gathering food he called me into his room and begged me to end it. The only reason he had keep going was because he wanted to protect Kyle but he could tell that him being alive was doing more harm then good.

God this is so hard to write… Cartman is calling me a pussy now but I have every right to cry.

So Ike told me he was loosing himself, like something was crushing his humanity. The infection wasn't killing him, it was changing him.

I will never regret what I did, never. I didn't do it for me or for Kyle, I did it for Ike. I sat there with him and watched the life go out of his eyes. I saw the look of peace that passed over him after so long of waiting. He went to a better place and I will never regret that, the only thing I regret is not letting Kyle see how he pleaded for it, how he begged for it to end.

Kyle walked in on me holding the bloody knife I had just used to help Ike.

I haven't seen Kyle in two years, the others think he is gone, probably taken by the infection or ended his life to stop the pain but I don't think so. I think he continued fighting, continues to fight. Kyle isn't weak; even after all that he would never just end it. He is the strongest person I have known and probably ever will. If there is anyone that can survive this… It's him.


	2. Meet The Team

_If I didn't have the others I would begin to believe that I was actually dead and we probably should be considering the risks we take although it's not like life it worth that much anymore. Sometime I wonder if everything is worth it._

_I mean our life has become squatting and running. There is no hope left. It is impossible for us to return to the way things were, the whole world is exactly like this, just survivors struggling to eat._

_What will happen once we are gone? Maybe this is it... The final end of the human race._

_We are a group of males and even our group of four is unnaturally large and we often struggle to find enough food to feed us._

_Anyways the four of us began a new tactic a few months ago. We figured that the less human survivors in the area ment more food for us and since then we have been disposing of everyone we come across, adults, children or the infected they all die but we are yet to come across anyone from our old lives…_

* * *

Mud up to my thighs, sweat pouring off me even though the surrounding forest is still buried under three feet of snow.

This is the biggest risk we have taken so far in our time together and my heart is about to give out under the stress.

I have a shotgun resting against the bend in my shoulder, a baseball bat sitting on the ground next to me and a huge hunting knife tucked in the back of my pants, the piercing cold of the blade burning my back. The wind is stinging my bare skin. My cloths had been ripped from my back by the forest a little more then an hour ago along with the left leg of my pants from the thigh down.

"Three," A voice from next to me whispered sounding slightly louder then necessary and I know it's because of nerves. Despite the way he hides behind racist remarks and a hard, uncaring mask I can now see the emotions hidden far beneath. My finger twitches towards the trigger of my shotgun as my knees dig into the embankment, tensed and ready for movement.

"Two," a closer voice whispered, soft and yet hard nothing like it had been a few years ago when we were in middle school, he was nothing like that sweet little boy we had all teased and tortured and yet loved all the same.

"One," It actually takes me a second to realise it's my own voice invading the unnatural silence that should be filled with bird calls, traffic noises from the nearby main road and children that should be out playing in the last of the melting snow.

"Now," Christophe's deep, gravely voice echoes down the valley behind us and my body reacts automatically. My knees forcing downwards into the soft mud and pushing my body upwards until my feet hit the ground. Before anyone else is even on their feet my gun shot is echoing through the valley behind us much louder then Christophe's yell. My body swings slightly as the child hits to ground, silent and unmoving. My second shot lined up and another gunshot echoes followed closely by two more.

"Move now," Cartman yells at us, "…we need to get them all, no lived spared I don't care who they are," he directs. I drop the gun and take up the bat instead running down the small hill towards the tents as the other human's come in search of the commotion armed with anything they had managed to grab. I don't take notice of anything except the number of bodies I see; seven that I could count, eight including the child and nine if that shadow was another human. Now was no time for guessing though.

"Nine," I called before swinging the bat into the head of a man at my feet sending blood across the ground.

"Eight,"

"Eight,"

"Huit," the others called and I growled in frustration swinging the bat outwards trying to keep the blood away from my bare skin as I moved towards the edge of a make shift shed. I didn't think it was possible but my heart actually sped up. The others moved into a safer formation before moving through the camp looking for any others. I jumped slightly at a noise from behind me but a soft grunt alerted my to the presence of our French companion. A quick glance showed me the hard lines permanently tattooed into Christophe's face and the dented, blood covered shovel clutched in his hands. A small motion of my fingers and our backs were pressed against the freezing metal of the corrugated iron shed. Moving as slowly as possible I peeked around the corner and managed to catch the movement of a shadow. Another hand gesture and Christophe moved back a step giving me room to steady myself, clutch the bat and lunge around the corner sinking past my ankles into the black mud. I am about to strike when realization hit.

Standing before me in nothing but a pair of tracksuit pants that are falling of his hips, his rips showing through his torn skin, covered from the few mattered strands of his hair to his rotting black toes in blood is a barely recognisable figure from my original life.

"It's contaminated," I yell at the top of my lungs as scrambling backwards and manage falling over a rock alerting the man to my presence. His eyelids fluttering open to revel deep sockets, nothing left of the deep blue that matches my own. Christophe grabs me and drags me back the way we had come moments before, swearing heavily in French the whole way. We reach the top of the hill and I glance back towards where my father… Not my father, that creature was only managing to come face to face with Butters, one blue eye shining with worry, confusion and horror as the other stares blankly head of him.

"Move Marsh," he yells in my face as Christophe drags me down the hill. He and Cartman grab for our supplies we left on the hill as well as struggle to balance the few things they had managed to grab and find. I managed to get my hands on my rifle as well as my small back pack that usually carries the extent of out ammunition. Christophe is shoving bullets into the magazine of his semi-automatic hand gun as he scrambles to keep his footing in the thick mud and loose snow.

I was positive the creature wasn't following us, why would it with all that fresh meat around but that's not what we were worried about. We had drawn attention to ourselves, the noise coupled with the sent of blood would draw the infected especially if they believed it was a free meal.

Christophe takes the lead, directing us with simple hand gestures until he managed to find a house that was almost standing and kicking open the front door. After a quick check to make sure the house was actually empty we head for the basement smashing the tiny window to allow fresh air into the basement as well as a quick and barely detectable escape root if needed, the same procedure we go through every time we hit a new house.

Dumping my stuff onto the floor I began playing with the deep gash across my left shoulder as Butters and Cartman begin going through our newly gathered supplies.

"'O ze fuck put you in charge?" Christophe suddenly demanded walking straight over to Cartman.

"It didn't look like you were going to do anything," Cartman growled back standing straight, hands baling into fists.

"I was surveying 'ze scene. If you weren't so impatient and 'ad waited a few seconds we might 'ave spotted 'zat 'zing," Christophe hissed back, voice raising.

"It was behind the goddamn building! How the hell were we supposed to spot it?" Cartman demanded.

"Um… G-Guys, calm down," Butter's stuttered quietly from his place at their feet. "Were not exactly in the best place…" I silenced them all with a hand gesture as I crawled towards the broken window glancing out into the midday sun and listening to the sounds of the outside world. The distinct horrific groans, moans, screams and dragging noises could be heard as the infected began their move.

"Keep you're fucking voices down," I hissed at them dumping myself onto the floor below the window and watching as Christophe and Cartman had a stare off.

"Fucking British piece of crap," Cartman snarled before taking his seat next to Butters once more. Christophe glanced at me before nodding his head towards the stairs. I shot him a confused look before he pointed upstairs.

"You 'zink 'zat 'zhere are cloths upstairs?" he questioned. It took me a second before I glanced down at my bare chest and pants that could almost rival the Raisins girls' short-shorts.

"This is a house idiot, of corse there are cloths upstairs," Cartman mumbled causing Butters to hit him over the back of the head.

* * *

_Butters has changed a lot since everything started. It was obvious to everyone that he went through a lot as a child, when we found him if was like everything from his childhood was finally catching up with him. Even in high school he had been the wimpy, nerdy kid that everyone picked on for their own amusement but now he is a hunter that can rival even Cartman. The first time he killed he lost his stomach much like I had but something changed. You could see it in his eyes, like he was some how getting back at everything his family had put him through in the past, everything that Cartman had put him through in the past._

* * *

"I'm sorry, is my bare chest distraction you from your thoughts Mole?" I question playfully.

"I ment, let's see if 'zere is 'zomzing to fit or do you wish to freeze?" he demands walking over and offering me his hand, helping me off the concrete floor and towards the ground floor of the house. The carpet under our feet was rotting away as are most of the other bits and pieces. Anything of use had been stolen and everything that was left had been pulled apart, broken or was slowly decaying. Christophe is about to lead me up the main flight of stairs but something stops me and I do a double take on our surroundings. Everything is familure and then it hits me. I release Christophe's hand that I didn't realise I was holding and moved to the left finding the tiny dark hallway.

I have walked this house so many times and when I close my eyes I can easily imagine everything where it is supposed to be. For some reason the house had always been unnaturally quiet, the silence broken by soft murmurs from the TV set in the lounge room and the squeak of the hamster wheel that used to greet you when you enter the small room at the end of the hall.

"I've been here before," I whisper to Christophe as I push open the door and step into the room allowing the musky smell of age that told me the room had been empty for quite some time.

"'O's 'ouse is 'zis?" he asks curiously stepping up behind me as if the Red Racer posters hung all over the walls don't give it away. Craig had always loved that show, having every episode on DVD and yet continued to run home every afternoon just so he could watch the re-runs on TV. Even though it fell apart and he had to put it back together with duck-tape he had continued to use his Red Racer backpack all the way through middle, then high school.

"Craig's," I tell him as I make my way over to the small cage sitting on the edge of the wooden desk in the corner. In the bottom of the cage was the skeleton of the last Stripes. Craig swore it was the same hamster but I we all new he just bought a new one every time the old one died. I couldn't help the tear that ran down my face, quickly abandoning the cage in favour of heading over to Craig's wardrobe. I don't think I have ever been as thankful that he and I are almost twins up until now. His cloths fit perfectly on me even if I only had a choice between a pair of ripped jeans, a pair of blue shorts or bondage pants. At least the bondage pants were thick and comfortable even if the chains and crap were going to cause problems. I managed to find a shirt supporting the words 'Epic as Fuck' right the way across the front and couldn't help but chuckle as I pulled it on over my head. Christophe managed to find a large and thick blue hoodie which I pulled on over everything and we were about to head back to the basement when something blue just under the edge of the bed caught my eye. I got down on my hands and knees, the sight of the blue had almost hand me in tears but I fought it off and got back to my feet waving Christophe off and glancing around the room once more in case there was anything useful. I pulled that hat onto my head and heading back down stairs realizing that Christophe had grabbed Craig's bag and he had joined Cartman and Butters as they filled them up with our supplies.

"You couldn't find anything more suitable?" Cartman demanded as he glanced over my new outfit.

"Dude, this is all Craig owns… Well it was these of a pair of jeans that are torn up worse then the ones I just took off," I told him earning myself a snort as the others finished up and threw my bits and pieces at me.

"Did you guys check the garage, the van is almost out of gas…"

"Your behind dude, what do you think we were doing while you were up there going through Craig's underwear draw?" Cartman chuckled punching my playfully in the arm before he pulled on his own back pack. "Now we gotta go before this place gets invaded," he mumbled. I pulled on everything as well as shoved my knife through the crappy belt that was half attached to the pants before following everyone upstairs. We all stopped just inside the front door and waited while Butters headed out the front to check if the coast was clear.

"The vans a street over… If we cut through that yard and swing a left we should just about be on top of it," Butters tells us confidently as he step out into the front patio and none of us are about to argue.

* * *

_He has an uncanny sense of direction and we have all put our lives in his hands before because of his instincts and as you can see we have all come out on top. Cartman says its because of all those times we got drunk and left him in the middle of no where, he always turned up for school the following Monday._

_But it's the same as Christophe. He used to play that stupid missionary game with Gregory and hence is extremely useful in tight situations as well as when we need a hole dug…_

_And Cartman is just a born leader even if he is a dick most of the time._

* * *

We dart across the yard and up over what us left of a backyard fence. The others take off ahead, darting over the next fence but a noise to my left has me alert. I swing my rifle around pointing it a patch of scrubs and weeds only to be attacked from behind. I let out a scream as whatever it is wraps itself around me.

"Craig," screams a voice into my ear as I realise my rifle is now at my feet. I manage to get my hand around my knife and drag it out of my belt as I reach over my shoulder and grab a fist full of hair. I drag them forwards and press my knife against their throat only to find a devilish looking Tweek kneeling in front of me, big brown eyes wide with fright.

"Tweek?" I demand releasing him immediately and stepping back only to have him attach himself to my legs. Okay… Not so thankful I'm Craig's twin anymore…


End file.
